Then the invitation arrived. My cousin Katie was getting married, and of course Jake would be there. They’d been friends since college, and apparently his new relationship status didn’t change that. I stared at the elegant invitation for days, debating whether to go.

Part of me wanted to stay home to avoid the inevitable awkwardness and the questions from family members who still didn’t understand why we’d broken up. But something inside me refused to hide. I bought a simple red dress from a discount store, did my own hair and makeup, and decided I would go with my head held high.

I told myself that I had nothing to be ashamed of. So what if I wasn’t wealthy? So what if I worked for a living? I was a good person, and that had to count for something.

The wedding was beautiful. Katie looked radiant, and I was genuinely happy for her. I managed to avoid Jake and Isabella during the ceremony, but I knew I’d have to face them at the reception. I spent the cocktail hour chatting with relatives, catching up with cousins I hadn’t seen in years, and actually enjoying myself for the first time in months.